Battle Scars
by Risilliance
Summary: Because some scars don't fade just because you've walked away from the battlefield. Post Sburb, featuring the beta kids and guardians as they nurse their wounds and try to carry on in a world that's forgotten them.
1. Dave: Wake Up

Dave == Wake up

No.

The alarm clock blares persistently, yelling at you to get up.

_Fuck no._

You reach out toward it blindly, feeling around for the snooze button. But before you reach it, your hand finds something better: your timetables. One of them anyway. You scratch it, manipulate time, and the alarm stops. Another hour or two of sleep. Then you'd get up.

Or restart time again and grab a few more Z's. Whatever.

Wait…

_What the hell?_

Suddenly, you shoot up out of bed as if the sheets were catching fire. You whirl around and look at the clock. The numbers 4:14 stare at you blankly, casting a slight, eerie, red glow in the dark of your room. You stare at them for a few more moments, and that's when the memories come back. One by one.

The sky set alight with meteors, the crow, the egg, entering the medium, connecting to Rose's server, John dying, John living. You remember prototyping yourself, the orange, feathery asshole you turned into. The trolls, the imps, the swords, Bro dead, John dead again, Rose dead. And then you. You remember dying, bathed in blood, so many times.

You double over in pain as if you can feel every bullet in your chest, every knife wound, every single death you have ever experienced. The memories keep coming, playing inside your head like one of Egbert's stupid movies. The nakodiles, the frogs, Jack Noir, Bec Noir, Jade, her face as you died again. And then there was Derse, the moon, the tumor, Rose and her stupid ball of yarn, the explosion, another dead Dave. And then...god tier.

You crumble onto the floor into a ball, clawing at your face. "Make it stop!" You think you say. "Make it stop, make it stop, make it fucking STOP!" But the pain, the memories, they persist and you are powerless to stop them. Images flash in your mind. The scratch, the reset, another session, new but old. Meeting the trolls, riding on the meteor, manipulating time, dying, dying, dying. Confronting Noir. Killing him. Winning.

Winning...did you really win? Did you really beat the unbeatable game?

Everything stops as suddenly as it had started. The pain vanishes and the memories relent. You are able to catch your breath as you catch up with the world, extremely nauseous and shaken, but otherwise intact. You open your eyes without realizing you had closed them. A far away voice is shouting, calling your name, but you can barely make it out. You only stare in shock, gaze drifting to somewhere on the old stained carpet. You won. You won the game. It was over now. It was fucking over.

Rough hands grab your shoulders and shake you hard. Your head bangs on the floor, and the hands drop you immediately. You close your eyes again, shake your head to clear your thoughts, then open them once more. Your vision is blurry, but everything comes into focus in a moment, and you can see orange eyes staring at you with concern.

Alarm floods your system. Bro never looks at you like that, never looks at anyone like that, and the fact that he's looking at you nearly sets you on the verge of hysteria. But your name is Dave Strider, and you know of no such thing. So instead, you compose yourself - or at the very least, you try. You sit up, leaning on your elbows, with what is probably the classic 'deer in the headlights' expression, unnaturally forced upon your face. And as your eyes dart around the room, you try to bring your defenses back up, but as you look back at your brother you know that won't be happening anytime soon. You can feel your heart beating against your chest, seeking liberation from it's cage, as you ask, "What's wrong?" You know it's a stupid question given your current situation, but stupidity isn't easily stopped at four in the morning.

Your brother seems calmer now that you're awake. He backs up a bit and sits down on the floor. "What's wrong?" he says, bewildered, concerned. "You're lying on the floor in fuckin' fetal position and you're asking me what's wrong? Scared me half to death, kid."

You look around the room again, as if only now realizing exactly what had happened. You look back at Bro again. He keeps staring at you, and you notice how unnerving it is, looking at him without your shades. You can't remember the last time you'd seen him without them.

Except...you can. He was dead then. Cold, and lifeless, bleeding out onto the hard dirt floor.

For a second you think your eyes are deceiving you. Because he looks as alive as ever now, looking at you intently, trying to understand what the hell is wrong with you because you are seeing dead people at the ungodly hour of three in the morning. You are Dave Strider, and you are loosing it.

Except he isn't dead and you aren't on LOHAC or LOFAF or Derse or Prospit or anywhere else. You are in your fucking room. At fucking three in the morning.

And he is fucking alive.

"The hell, Dave?" he prompts after several seconds pass by. You can see that you're scaring him a bit, or would, if he wasn't a Strider. "What the fuck is going on?"

Good question.

"I...Bro...what the hell?" is your incredible response.

"I don't fucking know. Why don't you fucking clue me in?" He is sarcastic, rolling his eyes, but there is a bit of an edge to his voice.

Slowly, still holding his gaze, you stand carefully, as if at any moment the floor will break apart and melt into the hot lava that you have grown so used to. "Dude…you're alive…"

Bro stands as well, unsure what to make of what you've just said. "Really," he tells you, increasing his sarcasm. "Fucking really? I had no idea, Dave. Thanks for waking me up to tell me that."

You're tone is somewhat accusatory when you tell him, "You we're dead! Noir killed you!" And there is a part of you that wants to tackle-hug your brother and another part of you that's wondering why he isn't tackle-hugging you. Because after all that's happened, after all this time, when you imagined finally seeing him again, you kinda thought maybe that would be how shit went down. And then you'd order pizza and he would beat you at some video games and everything would be normal again. Or at least as close to normal as things ever got around here. But there are no tackle-hugs. And there is no pizza, or video games, or even a whisper of normalcy. There is only you and your brother, staring at each other through the darkness.

And as the moments tick by, you count every second until he finally says something.

"What the fuck is wrong with you?"

"You...you were dead. Noir killed you."

"Who the hell is Noir?"

And that is when it hits you. This is when your world officially crumbles into nothingness, long past the point of no return. Your brother honestly doesn't know what you're talking about when you say that he has been dead for the last three fucking years. And even though you know, you need to hear him say it. So you ask. You say to him, "You don't remember." And he looks at you blankly before rubbing his temples in a rare display of frustration.

"Look kid. You just had a bad dream or something. Go back to bed." He orders. And then he walks out the door, unnaturally quiet, unnaturally calm.

The door closes, and you are left feeling more alone then ever before. Because Bro doesn't remember. The whole time you had been playing the game, the weight of his death was heavy on your shoulders. And yeah, after you found his body, you were a little reckless, a little stupid. But when you finally started playing the game, playing for real, you played hard. You played by your own rules. You played to win. And all you could think about during all that time was what you wouldn't give to tell him that you were sorry for screwing up, sorry that he might have died because you weren't man enough to face reality. You couldn't tell him that through some twisted logic, through some twisted time loops, that his death might have been your fault. And now you could.

But it wouldn't mean anything.

Because he doesn't remember any of it.

And if he doesn't remember, what about John, and Jade, and Rose? What about their guardians? The Trolls? Did they remember?

Did they even exist?

Were you going insane?

No.

Because you refuse to think for even a second that everything you all had been through was nothing more than a dream.

Fuck no.

You frantically look around for something, anything, that can tell you that you are right, that you aren't going mad. Your eyes land on the one time table by the alarm clock. You give yourself half of a second to wonder where the other one is before you lunge for it, desperate to hold it in your hands. And soon it is in your possession, the cold vinyl a comfort to you. You hold it tightly, looking at it for a long time. You scratch the record repeatedly, wanting to hear the ticking of reality as time flies backwards. You want to feel the fabric of time as you tear it apart and put it back together again in a completely different way. But something is wrong. Nothing happens, no matter how viciously you scratch at it's surface.

It's just an ordinary record.


	2. Dave: Have a Mental Breakdown

It's a long time before you're able to put down the record, and even longer before you're able to tear your gaze away from the clock. Time ticks by, in a slow, agonizing, torturous pace. The numbers on the clock change.

_Tick...tock...tick...tock…_

You are shaking by the time you go to your computer and boot it up. You try taking deep breaths, try to calm the fuck down, but it isn't working. Stuff like that has never worked before and you aren't sure why you thought it would work this time except _dammit. _Because you are Dave Strider and you'll do as you damn well please.

– turntechGodhead [TG] began pestering ectoBiologist [EB] at 4:27 –

TG: john

TG: john

TG: you there bro

TG: you okay

TG: you remember everything that went down right

TG: john

– turntechGodhead [TG] began pestering gardenGnostic [GG] at 4:36 –

TG: jade

TG: yo jade whats up

TG: are you there

TG: listen jade you gotta answer me

TG: theres some weird shit going on

TG: jade

TG: please be there please be okay

TG: are you okay

TG: jade come on

turntechGodhead [TG] pegan pestering tentacleTherapist [TT] at 4:40 –

TG: rose

TG: rose come on you have to answer me

TG: im freaking out here

TG: i don't know whats going on

TG: rose please please fucking please rose im begging

TG: answer dammit

TG: rose

TG: john and jade aren't answering rose please

TG: we gotta make sure theyre okay

TG: i turned back time

TG: and i have no idea what fucking happened

TG: my time tables are gone and bro has no idea what happened

TG: fuck rose

You feel like you are suffocating, slowly dying from the inside out. There is no answer.

You turn away from the computer and dash to the light switch. You flip on the lights and shove your shades over your eyes.

You then proceed to tear your room to shreds looking for some sort of evidence that the game had really happened. You unload your closet, dump everything onto the floor, look around your jars of preserved dead shit, under the bed, through the drawers of your desk. Twice, your brother yells at you to cut the noise, but you ignore him both times.

"It's gotta be here, there's gotta be something. Dammit, I did not just make this up." You keep muttering to yourself as you tear your room apart, checking pesterchum every two minutes. But you come up with nothing.

Eventually, Dirk comes back in, yelling at you to shut the hell up and get some goddamn sleep. But he stops mid sentence when he sees the state of your room. It takes him a moment to absorb the chaos. Your room was never 'clean' exactly, but you normally keep your stuff in their respective piles on the floor. But now your shit is everywhere. Fucking everywhere, everything, and you haven't found _anything_ to prove to Bro - to prove to yourself - that you aren't stark raving mad.

"Dave. What. The fuck. Is going. On." His words are made of ice, cold and demanding. Any other day and you'd be trying to talk yourself out of this mess, but today, it's almost as if you hadn't heard him. Instead, you keep looking, mumbling to yourself, trying not to break down, trying to remember if you had anything left from the game. But all your records are normal, and all your katanas are shitty, and all you are accomplishing is nothing.

"Dave. Dave, goddammit." Dirk has forged a path through the mountain of crap. He is in front of you now, holding your wrists and forcing you to look him in the eye. "What the fuck is wrong with you?"

And it's at this point that you can no longer squash the rising panic that's fogging your mind and threatening to choke you. This is where you loose it, where you know that you can't even try to pretend that something isn't wrong, horribly, irrevocably _wrong_. And you're not sure if its just you or if it's the rest of the world that's out of place, but both realities are equally terrifying. And a million thoughts are going through your head as you say to your brother, "No. No no no no no. You don't get it, you don't understand, you don't . Fuck, Bro. Fuck. Let go, let go!" You try to wrench your wrists out of his grasp, but instead he lets you go. You back away, looking everywhere, trying to take in every inch, every speck of dust in your room. There has to be something. There has to be something.

"Dave," he says cautiously, but you aren't listening. What can you use for proof? What might have been left behind?

You stand still for a moment, breathing hard as you run it through your head. Was there even the slightest possibility that all the shit on the roof, all the alchemizing equipment, might still be up there?

Hell, it was worth a shot. A long shot. A small, sad chance. But you are desperate. So you grasp the thought as you clench your fists, clinging to the thin air like your life depends on it. Because in your mind, it does.

And you race out of your room, leaving the door swinging in your wake and your brother staring at your silhouette in shock as his eyebrows knit together. A moment passes before he recovers, but when he does, he races after you, calling your name and yelling at you to stop, to come back. But _fuck_ no, because you are already out of the apartment, racing to the door that leads to the stairwell, turning the nob, opening the door, taking the first few steps, almost tripping. Bro is right behind you, asking you what the goddam matter is, what the hell are you doing, and if you want to strife could you possibly do it at a less ungodly hour.

Another flight of stairs and the door to the roof comes into view. You reach out to turn it. And you can almost feel the fresh air and the moonlight on your face as you race up the steps.

Except you miss a step, one of the top ones. You loose your balance and fall, tumbling down. Bro yells your name, tries to stop your rapid descend as you struggle to slow yourself down. But gravity has other ideas. You tumble right past your brother, down, down, down, until you come to a painful, bone shattering stop on the next floor.

There was a sickening crack. There was a look of horror on Dirk's face. There was pain. And then there was nothing.


	3. Dave: Be the Other Dave

Dave == Be the Other Dave

Your name is Dave Strider.

You prefer Davy. Bro calls you 'little man,' sometimes and you like that too. You also like apple juice. And watching TV and eating ice cream and playing video games, even though you aren't too good. Your bro is better. You hope to be just like him someday because he's good at video games. And he uses really cool swords and can eat an entire pizza by himself and he isn't afraid of the monsters that hide in your closet. Yeah, you love your bro.

That's why, when the nightmares come, you always run to Bro and tell him to chase the monsters away. Or else you ask him if you can sleep next to him. He normally says no. You lie down next to him anyway. You feel safe next to him. You know your big brother will protect you.

Then December comes. And with it, your birthday. You finally turn 6 and you get a cupcake with a candle in it and you play video games all day and you think your bro finally lets you win but that's okay

because you don't mind and you won't tell anyone. Your birthday was the bestest birthday ever and when you go to sleep that night its with a smile on your face.

Three days later, you have another nightmare. So when you wake up, you try to hold back tears as you run into the living room and nudge your bro. He's knocked out on the futon, snoring slightly. You nudge him a little more until he lazily opens his eyes, yawns, and says, "What, kid?"

"Bro." You say as you sniffle. "I had a nightmare. Can I sleep with you?" You rub a tear out of your eye.

Your brother looks a little more awake now. He looks at you, and a long time passes before he takes a big breath and lets it out slowly.

"Look Dave, you gotta grow up now. You gotta learn to get rid of the monsters by yourself."

"But -"

"Go to bed, Dave. It's time for you to be a man."

"But...but..." you say, because you don't quite understand what he means.

"Holy shit, kid." he says, and you cringe because you know shit is a bad word and you don't like it when your big brother uses bad words. "You don't need me to chase away the monsters. You gotta face them on your own." He rolls over so his back faces you and the conversation supposedly ends there.

But you don't want to go bed, not when there are monsters in your closet."But...but..." And this is when your lip trembles and your fragile, innocent heart breaks. This is when you start to break down and cry as you say, "I don't want to face the monsters."

Bro's voice is mean, maybe the meanest you've ever heard him, when he says, "Go to fucking bed, Dave." And you don't fight anymore because maybe you're a little bit afraid of him. So you hurry to your room and leave a little piece of your six-year-old heart to die on the floor among your teardrops.

Dave == Be the Other Dave. For real this time.

A crow calls out into the night as Dave Strider takes a tumble down the stairs.

And by Dave Strider, you mean you.

You see yourself fall down the stairs in a completely uncool, un-ironic display of clumsiness. You lay unmoving at the bottom, your neck set off at a sickening angle.

Dave Strider was dead.

Your eyes snap open as you sit up. A gray darkness confronts you. A look to your left confirms that your neck is indeed working, a relief. Your internal clock tells you that it's a little after 6 in the morning. You stare at the window and look at the gray sky shining through the curtains as you urge your heart to stop its reckless beating. Another dream, you think to yourself. That's all it was. Just a dream.

Except lately everything has been 'just a dream.' Or else it's been 'just a reality,' which is twice as worse on any given occasion. You can't really trust your surroundings now. Rose says it doesn't really matter anymore, since, through the game, dreams have become reality. She thinks you're paranoid. You just think you're being realistic.

Your name is Dave Strider.

You are 16 years old.

You mean 13.

You think.

You remember some things. You remember your dream, how you were freaking out about some sort of game, loosing your cool over a vinyl record and getting your neck snapped in half. But it was just a dream, and its not worth wasting another few seconds thinking about it. So you swing your feet over the edge of the bed and stand. You're in your room. There is a sort of heaviness in the air that you've come to associate with reality. It tethers you to the ground, prevents you from flying, from dreaming, from dying. You like it.

And then the floodgates open and you remember.

The game.

And then your mind is completely dominated by one thought and one thought only: _Holy fuck._

You bolt to your computer to turn it on and as you wait, you remember. You remember everything. Entering the medium, time traveling, getting yourselves blown up by the sun, all that shit. You remember the meteor, the Mayor, days and days and days of shitty chalk drawings. And when the days on the meteor finally came to an end, you met back up with John and Jade again. You met the younger versions of your guardians, learned about different versions of yourselves. You drew up battle plans to take down Jack and the Condense. And then...you...won?

It's strange...you can't remember how it ended.

This time, there's no panic attack. There's no mental breakdown. There's just you, swimming in an ocean of memories. Years worth. Because it was over now.

Pesterchum loads. You realize that you lack the god tier ensemble you've been wearing as of late. In fact, you're not wearing any clothing at all, save your boxers. So you grab the nearest shirt, a familiar red and white long sleeved with a certain scratched record on the front, and slip it on. It's Tuesday. April 14, 2009. You're on Spring Break. And yesterday, you and your friends played a game that made you fucking gods.

turntechGodhead [TG] pestered ectoBiologist [EB] at 6:14 –

TG: john hey

TG: i know its really fucking early

TG: just let me know when your up okay

turntechGodhead [TG] pestered gardenGnostic [GG] at 6:15 –

TG: hey jade

TG: you okay

TG: look i got to talk to you okay

TG: get back to me when you can

turntechGodhead [TG] pestered tentacleTherapist [TT] at 6:15 –

TG: rose

TG: yo somethings up

TG: i dont think were in kansas anymore

TG: talk to me

You run through everything in your head while you get some jeans on. You have no idea what happened, but all in all, you think you're taking this remarkably well.

That is, until you remember your brother. And then you turn pale and there's a slight tremble of your hands as you run them through your hair. Because you're not really sure if you want to face Dirk right now after everything that's happened. And you catch yourself wondering if he remembers. You wonder if he knows that he's been dead for three years, if he remembers anything about the Alpha session. And then you start to wonder if he's even alive. Because you saw the sword that Noir forced through his chest, and you knelt in the scarlet blood from his body.

So after much debate and an entire half hour of pacing around your room, you grab your shades and ease the door open ever so slowly because gog does that thing creak. It's 6:49 when you poke your head out of the door and find your bro sprawled out on the futon, snoring. It's only then that your able to actually fucking breath again. Armed with the knowledge that he is very much alive, you sigh in relief and get back into your room. You don't want to wake him up now. You wouldn't know what to say.

It's not like you need him to chase away the monsters, anyway.

* * *

Okay, so just in case it wasn't clear, the first two chapters were a dream, and the first part of this chapter was a sort of flashback. Also, I wanted to thank you all for the wonderful comments you left for me and asdfjkgfs LET ME LOVE YOU ALL!

Also I feel like I should probably give you a warning that in a few chapters, there's going to be some mentions of self harm and possibly other triggers. I'll put warnings up on the respective chapters.

Not every chapter will be from Dave's POV. I'm going to try to balance it out as much as I can. In fact the next chapter will be from either John or Jade. I chose Dave for the intro because I felt most comfortable writing from his point, especially since this is the first time I'm writing in second person. Originally it was going to be first and I wrote like 4 chapters that way before changing my mind a dozen times. This would have been up a lot sooner if I wasn't so indecisive about everything. Okay, I'm going to shut up now because you probably don't want to read all of this anyway but just THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR READINGG!


	4. John: Eat Cookies

Your name is John Egbert. Yesterday was your 13th birthday. You haven't felt the same since.

You feel a little empty inside. Like you've missed something. Something important.

Yesterday you stuffed yourself silly with birthday cake. You and your Dad watched all of your favorite Cage flicks. You opened your birthday presents and blew out thirteen candles, plus one for good luck. You turned thirteen. But no one had told you that thirteen would be so different from twelve.

It's bright outside when you wake up. You can see from your window that the sky is a pure, brilliant blue. The house smells like baked goods and you briefly wonder what your Dad is making. There is cake in your room. It's everywhere, the walls, the floors, even the ceiling, and you have no idea how it happened. (Well, okay. Maybe the shenanigans had _something_ to do with it.) There's a knife in your beloved movie poster. You aren't quite sure how that happened either. You'll have to fix it later.

You kick off the blue covers and stand up, stretching. You feel a little heavy, like something is weighing you down. Like the entire weight of the world is resting on your thirteen-year-old shoulders. You shrug, put your glasses on, and shuffle through the door. You walk down the stairs uneventfully, past Nana's urn of ashes, and into the kitchen.

You were not expecting the cookies.

There's probably a couple hundred of them, and they are everywhere. Your Dad is currently in the oven, peering at some _more_ cookies.

"Uh...Dad?" you say, staring in awe in the doorway. You had never seen this many cookies in one kitchen before.

"Yes, son?" he answers, putting on an oven mitt.

"What's with all the cookies?"

"That," he says, "is a very good question." He takes a cookie sheet out and puts another in. You shrug. You're Dad has never given you a good reason for his radical baking habits. You don't see why he would give you one now. At least they don't appear to be made from that Betty Crocker stuff. You take a chocolate chip cookie and scamper off before your Dad asks you to do the dishes.

Back in your room, you stuff the last crumbs of the cookie in your mouth and load Pesterchum. One of your chums has already left a message for you.

TG: john hey

TG: i know its really fucking early

TG: just let me know when your up okay

He was up early for a cool kid. You wonder what might have disturbed his sleep as you briefly type up a response.

EB: hi dave! what's up?

The response is almost immediate.

TG: john

TG: good

TG: okay

TG: are you okay dude

TG: is everything chill

EB: well there's cake all over my room and a razor in my poster.

EB: and my dad is baking a lot of cookies.

TG: so everythings okay

EG: well...yeah. why wouldn't it be?

TG: i dont know man its not like we just played a 3 year long game in a day

TG: or created a fucking universe

TG: or die a couple times or anything

TG: seriously man you okay

EG: dave, is this more of your ironic babble?

TG: what

TG: no

TG: the game egderp

TG: sburb

TG: you were waiting for it forever

EB: what are you talking about?

EB: what's sburb?

There's a moment before he replies.

TG: john

TG: do me a favor

TG: tell me your joking

TG: tell me that this one of your shitty pranks

EB: dave...what are you talking about? you're confusing me.

TG: oh my gog john

TG: stop being an imbecile and remember something

TG: the windy thing

TG: god tier

TG: jack noir

TG: anything

EB: sorry, dave.

EB: you're not really making any sense…

TG: you dont remember

TG: anything

TG: anything at all

EB: no

EB: sorry dave

TG: right

TG: yeah

TG: okay

TG: i gotta go man

TG: see you

turntechGodhead [TG] ceased pestering ectoBiologist [EB] at 9:20


	5. Jade: Feed Bec

Jade == Feed Bec

You have the pleasure of waking up to something wet and rough pressing against your face. The something barks excitedly, and in another moment you know that it's your loyal friend, Bec.

You wipe the doggy slobber off your face and glasses as Bec barks again and chases his tail. You smile and rush over to help him catch it, and when you both fail, you give him a big doggy hug and scratch him behind the ears just the way he likes it.

You're outside. It's nice out. Bright and sunny, with a few of those high, feathery clouds, as if some hand greater than your own had dipped a paintbrush in white and dragged it across the sky. It's a little windy, warm, but not terribly humid. From the position of the sun you guess it's late in the morning, 9 or 10 o'clock. But then again, time isn't your thing, and you know Dave would have a more precise estimate because...well, because…

You're not really sure why you think that.

You think a lot of things that are weird. You dream about a lot of weird things too. You guess it's just something you're good at, and with no one around to tell you that you're wrong, you've learned to embrace it.

But even you have to admit when things get too weird. Like now. Because instead of sleeping in your nice, cozy bed, you're out in the middle of the jungle.

You are Jade Harley, and you have no idea how you've gotten here.

You suppose Bec might have been feeling mischievous. Or maybe you were sleepwalking again. You'd have to check on your dream bot.

Bec is tugging at your skirt now, asking you to get a move on. He probably wants to play fetch, or else he's hungry and wants food. So you stand up and dust the dirt off of your skirt before picking up your gun and heading back to your house. Bec doesn't leave your side, not even after you irradiate his steak and turn on your laptop.

turntechGodhead [TG] pestered gardenGnostic [GG] at 6:15 –

TG: hey jade

TG: you okay

TG: look i got to talk to you okay

TG: get back to me when you can

It looks like your friend tried to contact you a few hours ago. You aren't really sure what to make of these messages, but you feel bad for making him wait so long. So you quickly type up a message.

GG: hi dave!

GG: whats wrong? you sound upset :x

GG: is everything ok?

You weren't expecting him to reply so quickly.

TG: jade

TG: thank gog

TG: are you okay

GG: of course im ok….why?

GG: whats wrong?

TG: oh gog no

TG: hell fucking no

TG: not you too

GG: dave…

GG: you aren't making any sense

TG: the game harley

TG: tell me you remember

GG: dave? are you okay?

TG: tell me you fucking remember

GG: what are you talking about?

A few moments pass before he answers you again.

TG: today is april 14

TG: yesterday was april 13

TG: 413

TG: we played a game

TG: that ruined our lives for the last three years

TG: please tell me some of thats ringing a bell

GG: dave im really sorry but that doesnt make any sense!

GG: i dont remember playing any games

GG: and even if i did how could it ruin three years if we only played it yesterday?

TG: look theres a lot of time shit okay

TG: just think

TG: really hard

TG: jade you have to remember

TG: sburb

TG: the beta

TG: the alpha

TG: please

TG: sorry dave :/

TG: i dont remember anything

TG: maybe you were dreaming it?

You are just about to ask him once more if he's okay when a notification pops up at the bottom of your screen.

turntechGodhead [TG] ceased pestering gardenGnostic [GG] at 9:42


	6. Rose: Remember

Being a Seer, you have no problem remembering the game. The memories come as soon as you open your eyes. You sit up and stare into space for a few moments, reminiscing as you wrap the orange covers around yourself. The peaceful sound of rain pierces the otherwise soundless room as you ponder all that had happened. Highly improbable as it seems, it appeared as though you and your companions had traveled to another planetary system to defeat a black demon, and in turn, save your world.

You shed the orange covers and rise, any remaining dregs of sleep vanishing from your eyes. You briefly wonder if there was a chance you had dreamed all of this up, but you know that is impossible. Not even your subconscious could weave a tale such as this one.

Your first thought is to power up your laptop and see what your counterparts had to make of this situation. But then thoughts of your mother force their way into your mind, and you know you are obligated to see if there is even a trace of her around the mansion. You leave your room and walk silently down the hall, knowing well that there was no need to be quiet, but unable to shake your sneaky manor. At the end of the hallway, her bedroom door was left a jar. You let yourself in, still almost unnaturally quiet.

You are unable to dissect what exactly your feelings are as you see her passed out on the floor, an empty bottle of rum next to her limp hand. For a moment, there is only alarm before you see the subtle rising and falling of her chest that signified life within her intoxicating body. After that, relief comes like a slowly blooming flower, and you are calm.

Your mother is not dead.

This is good news.

You admit to feeling a sense of detachment. There had always been, ever since the passive-aggressive battles had started. Maybe even well before that. Of course you are glad that your mother is alive. It means you will avoid the flaws of the foster care system, and she will drink herself into oblivion. Just like it had always been.

And yet, is there really a chance that you could be so heartless? Of course you're glad your mother is alive.

Of course you are.

You leave her there on the floor. There would be no point in waking her. She'd come to when she was ready. So you slip out the door and head back toward your room. Scenes from the game run through your head, and, try as you might, you can't figure out how you and your mother ended up back in the mansion, safe in New York instead of on another planet with an absurd name. Nor can you fathom why you were no longer in your god tier garments, but in the simple clothes you wore before all of this began. The mysteries surround you….

The soft patter of the rain continues to be the only sound discernable to your ears as you sit on the floor next to your laptop. You could have sworn you had left it elsewhere, and in the life that came before the one you are living, that might have surprised you. The computer screen lights up as you hit the on button, then promptly shuts off. Out of battery. Shame. You scan your room in search of a power cord, and upon finding one, you plug it into the wall. You decide to leave it be for now. Messaging your co-players would have to wait. Instead, you slip a pair of shoes on and tiptoe down the stairs and through the door into the soft, misting rain. The water feels cool on your skin, gentle and soothing, as you make your way to the Mausoleum. You are not shocked to find the coffin knocked over and the stuffed cat gone. You are somewhat surprised to see the passage way to the Skianet Laboratory. But you are pleased. It has confirmed what you already known.

The game had happened.


	7. Dave: Look for Answers

A few hours pass. You spend them pacing your room. Once, you venture outside to get some apple juice. Your bro is still knocked out on the futon when you return to your room. You stand by the window and watch the sun illuminate the sky in a world you thought was long dead. It's a bit disturbing, almost as if you were just another doomed timeline in a dead world that didn't really exist.

You almost think your ears are deceiving you when finally, hours later, you hear the ping that announces a new message from Pesterchum. You rush over and try to relax as you reply to John.

_He's alive._

TG: john

TG: good

TG: okay

TG: are you okay dude

TG: is everything chill

EB: well there's cake all over my room and a razor in my poster.

EB: and my dad is baking a lot of cookies.

TG: so everythings okay

EG: well...yeah. why wouldn't it be?

TG: i dont know man its not like we just played a 3 year long game in a day

TG: or created a fucking universe

TG: or died a couple times or anything

TG: seriously man you okay

EG: dave, is this more of your ironic babble?

TG: what

TG: no

TG: the game egderp

TG: sburb

TG: you were waiting for it forever

EB: what are you talking about?

EB: what's sburb?

And the jigsaw puzzle that was slowly coming together into your mind shatters into a thousand pieces.

He doesn't remember.

The rest of the conversation is a blur. You try to jog his memory. You fail. And then you end the conversation because you aren't sure how to talk to a John that doesn't remember the game. Because he isn't your John and you aren't his Dave.

Instead you wait for Jade to reply. You sit at the computer and stare in silence as you wait for what seems like hours but is really less than 20 minutes.

GG: hi dave!

GG: whats wrong? you sound upset :x

GG: is everything ok?

You ask her if she's okay. You ask her if she remembers.

She doesn't.

You think about shutting down your computer and going back to bed, that maybe when you wake up this will all be a horrible, half-remembered dream. But one of your friends has yet to respond, and you are holding on to that silly little thing called hope as if it were a life line, because in each and every way, it was. You briefly wonder if you are waiting in vain, then quickly shut that line of thinking down before it leads to something more dangerous.

_C'mon Lalonde. Where are you?_

There is no answer, and it doesn't surprise you. But you don't need this right now. You don't need the infinite amount of thoughts running through your brain and you sure as hell don't need the what ifs. What you need are answers.

And so you spend the rest of the morning combing through search engine after search engine in an attempt to find something about Sburb, Skia, and Betty Crocker conspiracies. When you turn up empty, you try pestering Karkat, Terezi, the other trolls. No one answers.

It's nearly noon by the time you hear Dirk stir. He probably had a gig late last night, probably has another tonight, and so it seems likely that between that and getting a somewhat decent amount of sleep, he didn't have much time to be dead, and so he must be alive.

Time. What a funny concept.

You run everything through your head a few more times, but the thinking is exhausting you. So instead of waiting around for nothing, you walk out of your bedroom.

You find him in the kitchen, looking in the fridge for the cold pizza that would pass for his breakfast. His hands find the box quickly without disturbing the numerous traps laid there for you.

"Bro?"

He glances back and acknowledges you with a curt nod, then goes back to his task.

You aren't really sure how to say this, not sure if there really is a way to say this or what exactly it is that you're asking. It's not like they write a manual for these sort of things and it's not like you ever found a way to easily communicate with Bro, at least not on your terms.

"Bro…" you try again, but the question you aren't sure how to ask dies in your throat.

He's sitting down and has his full attention on his meal, but he spares a moment to look up at you. "Well?" He says, one eyebrow raised, making a nice arch above his shades. "Spit it out, kid."

"I…" you shake your head, trying to clear your thoughts. And then you blurt out, "Where was I yesterday?"

Your brother freezes, pizza halfway in his mouth. He tilts his head slightly before dropping the slice and looking directly at you. "What?" You aren't sure how to read his tone and you're never sure how to read his expression.

So your reply is careful. "I was just wondering if you knew. Where I was yesterday, I mean."

He looks you up and down, and you are careful to keep your face blank and your posture relaxed. He stands and walks around the table so there's nothing but cold, empty space between you. You aren't quite sure, but you think you see his jaw tighten a bit, his eyebrows knit ever so slightly together, but in a second and a half it's gone, like an illusion, a mirage in the hottest of desserts.

"You were in your room," He says stiffly. "Just like you always are."

He watches you intensely, but you can tell he's trying to hide it, which makes it all the more terrifying. You know he wants you to leave now, but you have to try once more. So you pick your words more carefully this time and pray for the answer that you want.

"Was there a package that came in for me yesterday?" _The game. I want to know about the game._

He doesn't move a muscle, doesn't shift a bit, and his voice is dead when he answers, "No." Then he turns around heads back to the take-out box, and just like that, conversation over.

You fight against the disappointment as you head back to your room, but it threatens to overwhelm you anyway. You breathe in and out and wonder if the air that surrounds you is anything more than a lie or if it is really, truly tangible. Because you know you're awake, but you'd give anything to be dreaming right now.

That is, until you see the purple font blinking on your computer screen.

TT: I think we have a lot to talk about.

TT: It seems as though after we won the game we were deposited back in our old world and our old timeline. Perhaps we are allowed to continue on with the life we thought we had lost.

TT: Either way, it seems as though any trace of the game has been wiped from this timeline. Several internet searches have come up with nothing, and I still can't find my copy of the game.

TT: However, the Skianet Laboratory is still structurally sound, as far as I could tell.

TT: I didn't venture too far as I wasn't quite prepared to explore, though I guess you could say I wasn't any worse off than I was the first time I walked through it. Also, I wanted to make sure you, John, and Jade were alright.

TT: I'm fine, in case you're wondering. So is my mother.

TT: Or...Roxy, I suppose.

You think that if she were here, you might just kiss her out of relief. You mean, if that wasn't a completely unironic, uncool thing to do.

TT: Oh, and I still have my Godtier powers.


	8. Jade: Carry On

Your name is Jade Harley and you are hopelessly confused.

For one thing, you almost stepped on a frog on the way to your room. For another, your dreambot is broken beyond repair.

You wonder how you'll get to sleep now and if this will worsen your narcolepsy in any way. You also wonder how you'll ever manage to get by without being able to record your dreams. You are very curious as to how your dreambot manage to explode. You have no recollection of it happening and no idea what could have caused it. If only you could bend time and space to see what happened.

Bend space? No, what are you thinking? You're just being silly.

Bec stays by your side as you tend to your lovely plants. He seems rather interested in some pumpkins you have sitting on the floor. You feel like the most logical thing to say next would be, 'what pumpkin?' but that would be silly since they inches from your feet.

As you water your plants, you think about your chat with Dave. What exactly did he mean about the game? Do the others know what he's talking about?

So an hour later, when you find yourself back in your room, you pester Dave to make sure he's okay. When he doesn't answer, you pester John.

gardenGnostic [GG] pestered ectoBiologist [EB] at 10:16

GG: hi john :)

GG: how did your birthday go?

EB: really great! i got a whole bunch of cool stuff

EB: plus i watched a bunch of nick cage flicks

GG: no way!

EB: yes! it was the best!

GG: and im sure con air was one of them?

EB: a birthday without the heartfelt reunion of father and daughter would be no birthday of mine!

GG: no sir!

EB: also there was a lot of cake...

You get so wrapped up in John's birthday shenanigans that you almost forget about your encounter with Dave.

GG: :o i almost forgot

GG: you didn't happen to converse with your chum dave today did you?

EB: in fact i did converse with my chum today!

EB: why do you ask?

GG: oh nothing...its just that he seemed a bit…

GG: frazzled!

EB: frazzled? Like making up stuff about yesterday?

GG: precisely!

EB: then yes, i think he was frazzled too!

GG: oh no! :o

GG: we must do something to unfrazzle our frazzled chum!

EB: i don't think there's anything to unfrazzle about

EB: probably just had a bad dream or something...

EB: or maybe he was trying out a new rap!

GG: i don't know john :/

GG: it didn't seem rappy enough to be a rap….

EB: Hmmmmmmmm…

GG: Hmmmmmmmm?

EB: Hmmmmmmmm!

EB: oh no!

GG: what?

EB: nothing...it's just my dad is making a lot of cookies and i think he might have accidently burnt some?

EB: the smoke alarm just went off.

GG: :P you should probably check on that

EB: yeah, might be a good idea…..

EB: good luck unfrazzling our frazzled chum

EB: let me know if you need a partner in crime!

GG: i most certainly will!

gardenGnostic [GG] ceased pestering ectoBiologist [EB] at 11:34

You aren't quite sure how you will go about unfrazzling Dave, but you do know that it would be a whole lot easier if he would actually answer you. Until then, you do what you would normally do on a sunny day like today and take a walk. Bec goes with you. You have a feeling that today will be a good day.


	9. Rose: See

You spend the day exploring your house and the surrounding grounds. You can find no other evidence of the game. Your hastily typed FAQ page on Sburb has been wiped from the internet, and every search term you can think to enter into Google comes up with unrelated websites. The world is telling you that the game doesn't exist.

But you know better.

The underground laboratory is not enough for you, which is why it is fortunate that you can see beyond the façade of this earth. You know the truth, and knowing is enough because it has to be, because there is no step ahead of knowing. There is a step behind, and that is called faith, and you have no use for it right now because you have all of the knowledge you could possibly want. It's transparent to you, even in the darkest of corners.

This is how you know you still have your powers.

TG: rose no

TG: don't go down that skianet thing

TG: that place was sketchy to begin with

TG: like more sketchy than my last art project and believe me

TG: that piece of shit was sketchy in the most literal way

_Same old Strider_, you think to yourself, and you smirk as you add a touch of traditional Lalonde sarcasm.

TT: Your puns are amusing as ever. At the very least, we can say that our change in surroundings didn't effect your stunning sense of humor.

TT: Moving forward from this shocking revelation, I think we all seem to be in tact. Am I correct in assuming that you've retained your memoires of our time spent with Sburb?

TG: hell yeah

TG: john and jade cant remember anything though

TG: and what the fuck do you mean you still have your powers

TG: did you wake up in your fancy ass godtier pjs too

TT: I mean that as a result of my Seer abilities, I...uh...see.

TT: As for my robes, they are nowhere to be found.

TG: so the seer cant see her robes

TG: hows that for shocking revelation

TG: its probably better like that anyway

TG: my hood was fucking ridiculous dont even pretend it wasn't

TT: I would think at that level of outlandishness you would have found it...ironic?

TT: Or has that game finally gotten old?

TG: no lalonde

TG: this is not an opportunity for you to do that psyco shit on me

TG: seriously what do you mean you have your powers

TG: isnt that impossible according to all the laws and physics

TG: you know like the ones that exist purely to screw me over on my science tests

TG: those ones

TT: Once you eliminate the impossible, whatever remains, no matter how improbable, must be the truth.

TT: -Arthur Conan Doyle

TG: no shit sherlock

TG: but seriously what about these powers

TG: are you saying you can use your crystal ball voodoo shit to spy on me

TT: No, I can't seem to find that either.

TT: It looks like a lot of the items we created vanished in our transition back to our original timeline.

TG: you mean after we won the game

TG: so we don't get to keep all the cool shit we made

TG: fuck that

TT: 'Won the game.'

TT: What do you mean by that?

TG: well you know

TG: once we defeated jack and lord e and stuff

TG: right?

TT: That's the thing.

TT: I can't remember.

TG: fuck good i thought it was just me

TT: So you're suffering from memory loss as well?

TG: didnt i just say that

TT: Do you also have your Godtier powers?

TG: fuck no i cant time travel

TT: Actually, I'm asking as a courtesy. I already know you have your powers.

TT: And you used them. Recently.

TG: what

TG: no

TG: what?

TT: There's a...gap of sorts in the timeline. It may very well be caused by our sudden appearance, but I think it's more than that.

TG: so youre saying i time traveled

TG: how is that even possible when i don't have my timetables

TG: or the cadlescratch

TG: or any of the shit we created in the medium

TT: I'm not sure. Like I said, we have a lot to talk about.

TT: As a result of my powers I...know certain things. I'm not sure how else to explain it, except in terms of my title, the Seer of Light.

TT: Light, in this case, being knowledge.

TT: But the end of the game is still obscured to me.

TT: And there is still some mystery attached to how we came back.

TG: mystery what mystery

TG: we beat the game and time shenanigans happened

TG: there you go mystery solved thanks to you meddling kids and that dumb dog

TT: Scooby-Doo was hardly a 'dumb dog.'

TT: He accomplished great feats, fueled only by the occasional Scooby-Snack.

TG: do you ever look back on our conversations and wonder what kind of crack were on

TG: because fuck me over with a badly costumed villain if i am not doing that right now

TT: Cute.

TG: don't insult me

TG: i am motherfucking adorable and i will accept nothing less

TT: Apologia.

TG: of course

TG: so anyway

TG: you saw the skianet lab

TG: and you can see knowledge

TG: and oh yeah

TG: the fucking game actually happened

TT: Indeed.

TG: no but I need you to say it

TG: say the game happened

_How grim it must be_, you think, _to have to rely on others for reassurance rather than your own knowledge._ You are glad to have left that part of humanity behind.

TT: Is this a glimmer of insecurity that I'm sensing? Or perhaps a lack on conviction?

TT: Are you unsure of your memories, your thoughts, the very conversation you are currently having?

TG: Lalonde.

TT: Very well.

TT: The game was real.

turntechGodhead [TG] ceased pestering tentacleTherapist [TT] at 12:57

You suppose that you should feel satisfied with yourself. The game happened. You are sure of it. But knowing this, knowing that it was real, despite what this world wants you to think, can not compete with the desolate feeling of not knowing how it ended and how you ended up back in the beginning. It is a mystery to you, opaque in more ways than one, and your light is not enough to penetrate it. You can feel the emptiness, the hollow questions throbbing in your mind. You need to know. You _need_ to know.

And know you shall, in due time, in due space, and in every breath of your body. You will know. You'll have to know, or it will slowly kill you.


End file.
